Sugar and Spice
by Scandalacious Intentions
Summary: “And what are little girls made of? Sugar and Spice and all things nice.” The night of Anna Lovett's death for everyone who's wondering what happened.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Anna and I won't have her much longer…**

**A/N: Seriously, don't read if you haven't read "Where Dwell the Brave at Heart" or "The Gospel According to Lupin". This should have happened half way through "Daring, Nerve and Chivalry" but obviously, it couldn't have gone in there. This should clear up any doubts about Anna too.**

"_And what are little girls made of? Sugar and Spice and all things nice."_

_February 25__th__ 1981_

It was an odd sensation, knowing that she was walking to her death. These would be her last moments and as the sea breeze whipped her dark hair about her face, she was strangely at ease.

She wondered what she was made of. She had been a child once, an innocent little girl with wide, doe eyes and ringlets the colour of milk chocolate. She had worn green ribbons in her hair for Saint Patrick's Day and spent most of her childhood looking for four leaved clovers and leprechauns.

She scoffed. That was idealistic nonsense. She was no longer a doe eyed little girl who recited her mother's clichés. She was a murderess.

There would be no forgiveness for the activities in which she had partaken. There would be no forgiveness for the murder and torture of innocent people. There would be no forgiveness for allowing men who butchered those of non-magical blood, to sit at her table. There would be no forgiveness for aiding and abetting them. Her only excuse was that she loved the man who stood beside her, wand at the ready.

Love. Love is such a short word; a short word that can last a lifetime. Love was the reason. Love would be her salvation.

"I still think you should be at home tonight," he told her, his amber eyes shining with hate and a macabre mischief. She recognised this expression; it came with the thrill of the chase and the promise of a kill.

He had been thrilled when the Dark Lord had asked him to remove the werewolf. His eyes had widened and a slow, sickening smirk danced across his square jaw. Anna wondered whether the Dark Lord felt the sinking of her stomach, heard Remus' laughter in her ears or worse, watched her memories with her. She certainly had not cared for the manner in which he looked at her. She had glanced at Peter and seen her own fear matched in his eyes. He wouldn't betray her; he knew she would do as she was done by.

Anna Mulciber raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Her husband made no comment, shushing her as the roar of a handcrafted V8 engine and laughter filled the air. With a final meaningful glance, he entered the small cottage, closing the door behind him, leaving no trace of his presence.

It seemed that no-one trusted her. Good; she was not to be trusted. She smirked and waited in the darkness, wondering why they had been chosen for this. Could He-who-must-not-be-named really read minds? Did he choose her husband knowing that she would follow him? More importantly, would he have done so if he had known _why_?

Presumably not, or he would have killed her where she stood.

She took a deep breath. If she lacked the courage now then he would die. Removing her wedding ring, she pocketed it and waited, barely daring to breathe. If Remus knew something was off then he would stay with Black. Black might even enter with him. She couldn't bear that. It would mean that she had to live and she could not live with herself. She had to die and she had to do so tonight. Death was her only means of escape. It was selfish, incredibly so. She would never have believed it of the old Anna who would have endured a lifetime of pain rather than sell out her friends, but this was a new Anna. This was the scheme of a murderess.

In the darkness, Anna could make out Lupin throwing a helmet back to the bike's rider. He looked straight at her, into burning brown eyes and his smile faltered.

Anna's breath caught in her throat. He would find her and then Black would kill her. She didn't want to die at the hands of Black. If she was killed now then she would be of no use to anyone. She would die a killer with no saving grace. That could not happen. She would kill Black before she allowed it to happen; that was tempting in itself.

It was so dark that she could no longer even make out Remus. It wasn't until she saw his black eyes shining beside her that she knew he was there. She gasped and hurriedly pulled out her wand.

"What are you doing here?"

And how could she even contemplate allowing him to naïvely walk to his death?

"Don't go in there!"

Lupin's eyes narrowed as he sized her up. "What the hell is going on?"

"Shh," she implored, pressing her finger to his lips and widening her eyes in fear. "They'll hear us."

Lupin, though angered and wary, lowered his voice. "Who?"

Anna's breaths came as short, infrequent gasps. "My husband," she eventually whispered. "Mulciber," she spat, removing the gold band from her pocket and throwing it into the depths of Lupin's garden. "Go."

"Why is Mulciber in my house?" Lupin demanded, grabbing her wrist and tightening his hold until she winced, attempting to pull away from him.

Anna growled in frustration but accepted her position and allowed her former beau to interrogate her. "The Fidelius Charm," she hissed. "We know about it."

We? She had openly declared herself a Death Eater and so was not surprised by Lupin's sudden actions. Lighting his wand, he pushed up the sleeve of her left arm and finding unmarked creamy flesh, breathed a sigh of relief.

So the spy had at least breathed word of James' chosen method of protection. The Charm in itself was no longer safe. Lupin somehow managed to take a breath and swallow. He nodded.

"I suppose they think it's me."

Anna nodded. "We know it's not Peter and Black would be too obvious, wouldn't he? That leaves you."

Lupin almost shook his head but remembered in time that it was better to die and have them think that the secret had died with him. Once more, he nodded.

"Who's the spy?"

Anna bit her lip. If she told him, who knew what damage she could do? Everyone would know it was her betrayal. She smiled. It didn't matter. She would already be dead.

She went as far as to open her mouth but thought better of it. "Look, that doesn't matter. All that matters is that you get out of here."

"No!" he shouted, determined to make her see reason.

Her eyes blazed. "Well done," she hissed as the kitchen window creaked open. She was left with no choice and, unable to leave the stupidly noble idiot to die, threw her left arm into the air and screamed a spell that sent red sparks flying into the air.

Obviously, they haven't taken the Muggle population into account, thought Lupin as he was pulled in through the door of his mother's cottage. He could only thank God that she was away.

He recognised Mulciber by his gravelly voice.

"Nice one."

Lupin scoffed, thinking he deserved an Oscar for his bravado.

"On your knees," he hissed, pointing his wand at Lupin's head.

Lupin refused, standing perfectly still in absolute silence.

The sudden rush of love that Anna felt for him in that moment sealed her promise to herself. Only one of them would die tonight.

"Imperio!" cried Mulciber, his hand shaking. "On your knees."

Anna bit back a triumphant grin as Lupin refused to even bend his knees slightly, despite being under the curse of an expert. She was frozen to the spot, unable to even raise her wand. Now that she had to show her courage, she couldn't. As much as she hated herself, she loved her husband and it would crucify him if harm came to her.

"Crucio."

Finally, he fell. His body twitched but he refused to make a sound. Anna had the feeling that even Mulciber admired his restraint.

"Stop it! Stop it!"

She turned to find the source of the screams and was shocked to discover that they appeared to have been made by her.

Mulciber locked eyes with her and raised one eyebrow. He smirked and removed the curse. He leant over and in a hushed whisper, asked, "Do you know what comes next, Half-breed?"

Her hands shook as she reached for her wand. Pointing it in her husband's face was possibly the hardest thing she had ever done. She would have been proud had she not been terrified.

It shocked him enough to give Lupin time to get to his feet and draw his own wand. Anna gawped at him and swung round, stretching so her wand dug into his scarred cheek.

"You harm a hair on his head and I'll…" she trailed off, hating empty threats.

Mulciber smirked.

"Don't smirk. It's not becoming."

His eyes widened as his wife's wand now pressed into his chest. Both he and Lupin frowned. He would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation had it not been happening to him.

"Stupe-"

"Filthy Half-breed!" she screamed, crying and pushing her wand further into his neck until he gagged. She turned to face a confused Mulciber and shook her head. "Don't even think about it," she warned him. "Because he's worth ten of you."

She watched Lupin's wand turn on her from the corner of her eye.

"Don't ever speak to me like that again," he whispered.

"Get that thing away from my wife!"

She swivelled to point her wand at her husband and sighed. This was ridiculous.

"For Christ's sake," she muttered. "Put your wands away."

Mulciber laughed bitterly. "What do you take me for, an idiot?"

Lupin lowered his wand. "If you kill me, then you kill me."

Anna stared at him, disbelievingly. "Are you serious?"

Lupin shrugged. "I trust you. God alone knows why. I certainly haven't the faintest clue."

"Remus-"

He smiled faintly. "Don't say it. It cheapens the sentiment."

They stood there, watching each other intently; betrayed and betrayer; predator and prey. Neither was entirely sure to which Anna belonged.

Her eyes glazed over. She wasn't made of sugar or spice and there were certainly some unsavoury character flaws. She took a deep breath.

She was made of Shrinking Solution. God, how they had laughed once her nose had been restored to its usual size.

She was made of Blood Pops. He had taken her to see the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade even though he didn't want to go. He had sat with her in the snow and caught cold. He had sucked his way through two Blood Pops before she tasted one and spat her mouthful into the snow, shuddering.

She was made of Firewhiskey on freezing November nights. "Here, this'll warm you up." She could still feel the burning at the back of her throat and the slow sensation of heat pulsating through her body down to the very tips of her toes.

She was made of soluble Paracetamol. "It's all I've got." He was sprawled out on the sofa after what she now knew was a transformation. His head pounded and she had shifted his legs onto her lap. He had taken her Muggle drugs even though she doubted he had heard of them before.

She was made of Honeydukes' Finest. The summer heat had melted his chocolate. The look on his face had been priceless. She still claimed it was one of the funniest things she had seen. He covered her in it. It had been sticky, sweaty and they had made one hell of a mess. It had been fun.

She was made of Hot Butter Fudge Bath Syrup. She couldn't remember how on earth she had persuaded him to take her to the Prefect's Bathroom. From what she had seen of him, he wasn't much for breaking the rules. She had seen nothing of his inner Marauder until that night.

She was made of Pepper Imps. The sexual tension was almost a physical ache by that last April. He had found her in her deserted classroom hideout. He had pinned her against the wall and kissed her in a manner that every woman dreams of being kissed. "You taste like peppermint." She still blushed when she remembered. "Do you like it?" The way he had smiled at her, a grin that flashed sharp, brilliant white canines, made the blood rush to her middle. "I fucking love it."

"I love you," she said simply. "God help me, I do."

"Avada Kedavra!"

She leapt between them, bathing in an almost ethereal green light. Her eyes met Lupin's and widened, their glint extinguished permanently.

Falling backwards at her horrified husband's feet was so undignified that Lupin was enraged.

Anger, pain, hatred and eventually; nothing.

He was numb until he knelt beside her, hearing her dulcet tones in the back of his mind as the eleven year old girl who had been his Potions partner giggled and said, "So, Remus is allergic to honey."

He heard her soft sighs of contentment as she lay in his bed, removing silencing charms and hoping the other three boys had heard nothing.

If he concentrated tremendously hard, he could smell the faint traces of her perfume on his skin, taste her raspberry balm on his lips.

"What are we going to do?"

Lupin's head shot up. He had forgotten about Mulciber.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, absolutely incredulous.

"About the body," said Mulciber, his voice cracking. "I can't take her. They'll do things to her."

Lupin nodded. "She can't stay here."

"I can't take her," Mulciber repeated, his eyes pleading with his long time enemy before Disapparating on the spot.

Lupin scrambled to his feet. There was only one person he wanted to see. She probably wouldn't have the time of day for him any longer but regardless, Lily Potter was the one person who would completely understand.

He managed to get to Godric's Hollow before he remembered that even if she was willing to see him, he wouldn't be able to get in.

Lupin allowed himself the rest of the night to sit on the cold stone of a war memorial in the middle of nowhere and scream himself hoarse and sob, safe in the knowledge that there was no-one to hear him.

When he returned to Sleepy Cottage, the body had been taken. By whom he could only guess. He had nowhere to mourn her, nowhere to remember her. There would be no funeral in which he could speak, explaining the truth and protesting her innocence. There would be no wake in which he could swap anecdotes with someone who barely knew her and pretend he was fine.

Perhaps it was better that way.


End file.
